


Let Sleeping Wolves Lie

by round_robin



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Soft Eskel (The Witcher), Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Jaskier | Dandelion, Soft Lambert (The Witcher), Somnophilia, Winter At Kaer Morhen, Wolf Pack, hibernation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-11-27
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27732463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/round_robin/pseuds/round_robin
Summary: “A year on The Path is exhausting. Young Witchers hibernate for a week or so to regain their strength, but I'll just be a little tired.” Geralt paused. Jaskier thought it was to give him a moment to process this new information, but Geralt seemed to be working up to something bigger. “Lambert still hibernates. I—” he bit his tongue, considering his words. “I like to be there for him.”Jaskier tried to hide the smile on his lips; Geralt was being vulnerable, he didn't want his happiness mistaken for teasing. “Then I shall be there as well, in any way I can.”
Relationships: Eskel/Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Eskel/Jaskier | Dandelion, Eskel/Lambert (The Witcher), Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Lambert, Jaskier | Dandelion/Lambert
Comments: 63
Kudos: 603





	Let Sleeping Wolves Lie

**Author's Note:**

  * For [neutron_star](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neutron_star/gifts).



> Written for neutron_star, who wanted Lambert getting spoiled. I was in a hibernating Witcher kind of mood, and this is what fell out of my head. Also coupled with the idea that Lambert might not be that much older than Jaskier, canon timelines are tricky (since there are three of them...) but I do like this idea. Please enjoy <3
> 
> There is now a Russian translation of this fic [here](https://ficbook.net/readfic/10141523)!

The moment Geralt invited Jaskier to winter with him, the normally taciturn Witcher turned into a chatter box... sort of. It came in spurts, gathered around the fire at night, Geralt would suddenly start talking, preparing the bard for winter.

“We have chores. You'll need to help. Everyone pulls their weight.”

“Of course,” Jaskier said. “I expect nothing less.” Even winter at Oxenfurt saw Jaskier with a few tasks: making sure he had enough fuel for his fire, knocking the ice from his window to make sure there were no unfortunately accidents, tending to his own mending since it was easier than sending his clothes out during the busy holiday season; not everything at Oxenfurt was handed to him.

“Vesemir is my mentor. Pull your weight and you won't have any problems with him. Do you know any old ballads? He'd like those...”

The information kept coming, in fits and starts at first, then Geralt started spending whole nights telling Jaskier about his family. It was delightful. “Eskel and I, we're close. We're the only ones left from our training group. He enjoys poetry, you'll like him.”

“I'll like them all,” Jaskier assured.

“Lambert's the youngest. He's... give him a few days. He'll come around. We're all a little more relaxed in winter.”

Jaskier chuckled softly. “A relaxed Geralt? Now this I have to see.”

Once they started up the mountain path and the weather grew colder, these talks got more _intimate_. Geralt held Jaskier at night, rubbing his nose through soft brown hair. “When we arrive, I might be a bit different too. I don't want you to worry.”

Jaskier's ears pricked at that. Geralt never said anything particularly worrisome when he talked about his home, he couldn't imagine what made him hesitant now. Jaskier nuzzled back into him, trying to be as comforting as possible while half way up a mountain freezing his balls off. “Short of a grievous injury you assure me is fine, you haven't done much to worry me yet.”

It took another day for Geralt to say what he'd been dancing around. “Winter is a time of rest. I'm going to be tired, lethargic for a few days. It's my body acclimating to home. I don't hibernate anymore.”

Quietly dozing against Geralt, Jaskier's eyes flew open. “Hibernate?”

“A year on The Path is exhausting. Young Witchers hibernate for a week or so to regain their strength, but I'll just be a little tired.” Geralt paused. Jaskier thought it was to give him a moment to process this new information, but Geralt seemed to be working up to something bigger. “Lambert still hibernates. I—” he bit his tongue, considering his words. “I like to be there for him.”

Jaskier tried to hide the smile on his lips; Geralt was being vulnerable, he didn't want his happiness mistaken for teasing. “Then I shall be there as well, in any way I can.”

True to his word, the closer they got, the more Geralt's eyes started to droop. As soon as Roach was taken care of and they were inside the warm keep, Geralt had to lean on Jaskier to make it the few steps to the large cooking fire.

“Set him there, lad,” Vesemir instructed. “Eskel will manage him.” Eskel was already sprawled on the fur rug, a pile of other furs thrown across him, eye lids heavy but alert. Geralt went into his arms and they were both asleep in minutes.

Jaskier followed Vesemir up to Geralt's room and put their things away. It felt strange entering a bedroom without its owner, but Jaskier was glad Geralt got the rest he needed. A nap actually sounded like an amazing idea...

* * *

By the time Jaskier awoke—hair mussed by Geralt's far too comfortable bed—he stumbled downstairs to find Geralt was also awake. Eyes still heavy, he leaned into Eskel's side. “I'll be fine in a few days.”

As promised, Geralt was much more alert when two days later, a bellowing voice rang through the entire keep. “He's at the gates!” Vesemir shouted.

Eskel was in the middle of some mending while Geralt was busy preserving the last of the autumn produce. Both dropped their respective tasks and bolted out of the hall, winter cloaks fluttering behind them. Jaskier sat there stupidly, his own mending dangling from his fingers. Vesemir appeared from the stair where he'd been keeping watch. Setting his work aside, Jaskier followed them out. Time to meet the young wolf.

A head of dark hair met his eyes as the third Witcher slumped forward, suspended between Geralt and Eskel. Vesemir had his mount and headed towards the stables, his eyes following them closely. Jaskier gathered his cloak tighter around himself, trying not to sigh at the tender care going on in front of him.

One arm looped around Lambert's hips, Geralt buried his nose in his hair. “You're home now,” he whispered. Lambert grunted, asleep on his feet.

“Can I do anything?” Jaskier asked.

Eskel handed over his bags and Jaskier heaved them onto his shoulder, sure they were much lighter than the load Geralt and Eskel carried. Inside, they stripped Lambert's traveling clothes and put him in a soft linen sleep shirt, the very one Eskel mended just an hour ago. Settled in front of the fire, Lambert slept on. Jaskier had to bite back his smile when Eskel and Geralt joined him in the pile of furs, petting and holding him close.

“He's the youngest,” Vesemir said, voice low so he didn't startle Jaskier. “They're very protective of him.”

“Yes, Geralt said as much.” Well, _I like to be there for him_ , was hardly expansive, but Jaskier expected the care and comfort of brothers in arms; the reality of their soft attention took his breath away. “How young? If you don't mind me asking.”

Thinking for a moment, Vesemir shrugged. “We didn't really count years, not the way humans do. Lambert might be around your age, though, perhaps five, ten years older.”

Wasn't that a thought? A Witcher who wasn't an old man with a young face. There was a definite difference between Geralt and Vesemir—Geralt knew some of the old battles Jaskier heard his father speak of, Vesemir recalled wars between countries that no longer existed—but Geralt had his moments that made Jaskier wonder how old was considered _old_ for a Witcher. Was Geralt essentially a fool hardy youth when it came to Witchers? A full grown man? What did that make Lambert?

Jaskier looked over at the Witchers with a new perspective, here in their home, they were no longer monster slayers or the last hope of pitiful humans, they were just boys taking care of one another, looking after the youngest of their number. Jaskier's heart melted a little more when he saw Geralt nuzzle Lambert's cheek as Eskel licked his ear. Comfortable in front of the fire, they all fell asleep.

Over the next few days, Lambert was never alone. Geralt and Eskel had chores, Vesemir needed help with the heavy lifting Jaskier simply could not assist with, but there was always at least one of them in the nest of furs, hugging Lambert, kissing him softly, putting him into a fresh sleep shirt. One afternoon, Jaskier came in from stacking wood in the courtyard to find Eskel spooned up behind Lambert, moving in a very _familiar_ way.

“It's not what you think,” Geralt said from over his shoulder, making Jaskier jump a little. His lips curved down, the same look he had when he started talking about their hibernation, hesitant, worried Jaskier might judge them. “When you're warm and sleeping like that, your body reacts to whoever is nearby. Eskel's not taking advantage.”

Jaskier raised his hands in mock surrender. “You don't have to explain anything to me. I am a guest here, Geralt, I'm not about to tell you how to go about something you've been going through for a very long time.” Across the hall, Eskel sighed and the rhythmic movement stopped. There was a sleepy purr as well, possibly Lambert, happy and content in his dreams. Jaskier didn't know, he hadn't gone too close, didn't want to intrude... “If you need a break, I can sit with him. I won't do _that_ , but I can sing. Would he like that?”

“Yes, I think so.”

Jaskier got to test his theory the next morning when Vesemir needed Geralt and Eskel's help in the courtyard for some much needed repairs. Though Lambert moaned at the loss of a warm body next to him, Jaskier didn't dare crawl into the nest; what if he woke up and saw an unfamiliar face? That didn't seem like a good idea. He sat in a chair nearby, playing low and soft, singing quietly. Lambert rolled closer to his voice and eventually started snoring.

Geralt and Eskel returned and quickly washed in a nearby basin before crawling under the furs, holding Lambert between them. Jaskier went to put his lute away, leave and give them some privacy, when a hand on his ankle pulled him back. “Keep playing,” Geralt said. Jaskier did as he was asked, but he couldn't sing. Every song he'd ever learned seemed to fall out of his brain at once the moment Geralt started licking Lambert's neck, Eskel nosing through his hair and biting his ear lobes softly, nipping like puppies. It was the fucking cutest thing Jaskier had ever seen.

The longer they licked and pressed in close, the more... intimate, the scene became. A small growl rumbled from Geralt and his hand shifted under the blankets. Lambert's lips parted, his head lolling back onto Eskel's shoulder as the two bodies around him fell into a rhythm. Jaskier, who was already hot enough under the collar (it was the fire, sitting in front of the giant thing for so long... yes, that's all it was) crossed his legs to hide _things_ as they arose.

“I'll leave you be,” he whispered, unable to raise his voice much louder without letting out an pitiful moan. “Give you... privacy.”

“We're in the front hall, we don't expect privacy,” Geralt grunted, rubbing his nose across Lambert's lips before kissing him, long and slow, giving each lip individual attention before moving on, kissing down his neck. Spooned up behind Lambert, Eskel was silent as his body rolled. Golden eyes flicked up to him and Geralt smirked. “Do you want to stay?”

Jaskier swallowed, his cock harder than he ever remembered it being. “Yes, I think I do...”

There was something taboo about it—seeing Lambert this open, this vulnerable—and for that reason, Jaskier couldn't look away; they were all still covered, Geralt and Eskel under the blankets and furs, and Lambert in a soft sleep shirt they lovingly dressed him in, but the movement of it, the way the blankets undulated... Jaskier couldn't help but let his hand wander between his own legs. Lambert's sleeping body arched towards Geralt, then Eskel as they touched him, whispered soft words into his hair, “You like that? Make you feel good all winter...” The trust involved must be great, especially for a Witcher, who Jaskier already knew to be suspicious of everyone and anyone, how long did it take Geralt to let down his walls, and now here they were, showing them their most private moments...

Jaskier wasn't sure what finally pushed him over the edge, the way Lambert moaned in his sleep, body shaking, or the mere thought of loving someone enough to trust this deeply. He excused himself to change his soiled underclothes and came back to find them all snoring, Lambert in a fresh sleep shirt. He played quietly until Vesemir roused them for dinner.

* * *

Golden eyes opened the next morning. Geralt and Eskel were right there, petting Lambert's hair and shushing him back to sleep. “It's alright, you don't have to be up yet, you can rest more,” Eskel whispered.

“Mmm,” Lambert moaned and his eyes closed, falling back asleep.

While Vesemir was too old to lay on the floor (so he claimed, he looked plenty spry chasing Geralt and Eskel around the courtyard when they decided a snow ball fight was more fun than masonry) he sat with Lambert's head in his lap, stroking his hair while he told him all that happened in the keep that year. “South tower finally went, the one you like to climb when you're pissed at us. Like to see you climb a pile of rubble... actually no, stay the hell away. It'd be a shame for you to make it back then die falling on a splintered beam.”

When it wasn't Jaskier's turn to sit with him, he took to watching the others with Lambert. He started waking up for a few minutes at a time, mumbling soft words to Eskel or Geralt. “How long?”

“Four days. You can sleep longer. We have an extra set of hands this year,” Eskel said.

Lambert's brow crinkled in a way Jaskier was trying (and failing) not to describe as sweet. “Who? Coën?”

“Geralt's bard, Jaskier. He's been sitting with you. Do you want to meet him?” Lambert must've given some sort of affirmative signal because Eskel waved him over. Jaskier tried not to trip over his feet in his excitement, kneeling down next to the nest of furs. “Lambert, this is Jaskier.”

It looked like an effort to pull his gaze up towards Jaskier, but oh so worth it. As soon as Lambert's eyes settled on him, Jaskier knew he was lost again. First to Geralt, his heart was gone to the White Wolf long ago; next to Eskel, the soft spoken bear of a man who smiled at Jaskier's poetry, leaving slim volumes of works the academics at Oxenfurt believed destroyed, by Jaskier's elbow for him to read and enjoy; and now he was lost again to Lambert, the Wolf who was almost as young as the bard himself, peaceful in his sleep, warm and protected by the pack. And Jaskier couldn't get enough of it.

“Hi,” Lambert said. “Did you sing to me?”

Heat climbed up Jaskier's neck, and not from the fire. “Yes I did. Did you enjoy it?”

“I had nice dreams.” He pushed his head into Eskel's hand, wordlessly requesting touch. “I'm awake now, I just need to lay here for a bit... Will you sing more?”

Jaskier blinked. “Yes. Yes, that's—I can do that.” Scrambling to his feet, he ran upstairs to fetch his lute from Geralt's bed—a bed they'd barely slept in, preferring to stay near Lambert. Jaskier never would've imagined that he'd spend the first full week of winter not touching his gorgeous Witcher and still be perfectly pleased about it, but taking care of Lambert was a reward in itself, sensual and close and intimate, all things the average human would never associate with a Witcher, but Jaskier knew to be some of Geralt's key qualities.

Retrieving his lute, he ran back downstairs to find Lambert with his head in Eskel's lap, eyes a little more aware. Jaskier sat in the nearby chair and played, singing quietly as Eskel played with Lambert's hair. He got up a few minutes later and returned with a plate of bread and cheese, feeding small pieces to him. Jaskier couldn't look away, entranced by the loving care on open display in front of him, from Witchers of all people... He played until his fingers were numb, stopping only when Geralt entered the hall, beckoning him with a look.

Strong arms he'd fallen into a thousand times wrapped around him once more, a warm nose sliding up Jaskier's neck. “Thank you for being patient. And for helping, it means a lot to me.” The arms around him tightened for a second, breath hitching. “I know you were excited for ballads and tales of Eskel and Lambert's contracts. Please, don't—don't talk about this. It's—”

“I'd never.” Jaskier rubbed his face in Geralt's neck, getting lost in the curtain of white hair. “This is... thank you for sharing it with me. It's beautiful. I'd never sully it with cheap songs.”

Geralt squeezed him tighter before pulling back, but only long enough to lean down and cover Jaskier's lips with his own. They were so focused on chores and Lambert's well being, there was hardly time for kisses and cuddles the past week; Jaskier was just starting to feel the itch under his skin, the need for a good hard tumble, preferably in the too comfortable bed upstairs...

“Hey,” Lambert called from the other side of the hall. Geralt pulled away from Jaskier like Lambert had him on a string, attention snapping back across the room. Half sprawled across Eskel's lap now, the first hints of Lambert's bastard smirk were already coming back. “Any of those kisses for me?”

Lacing their fingers together, Geralt pulled Jaskier back over to the fire before dropping to the floor, kissing Lambert with zero hesitation. Two pink tongues tangled together and Jaskier couldn't decide whether the sight made him more horny, or made him want to compose love poems no one would ever read.

“Don't worry,” Eskel smiled as Lambert and Geralt continued to kiss _in_ his lap, their needy little moans effecting him as well. “Wait until tomorrow, then you'll see how much of an asshole he really is. Lambert's only a puppy when he's asleep.”

Jaskier shrugged, the sight of Geralt and Lambert ( _still_ kissing, still going, teeth clacking together as they tried to bite each other in a way that should not be arousing but definitely was) making him more than a little hot an bothered. He tried to shift nonchalantly, but hiding an erection from a Witcher was impossible. “Don't worry,” Lambert mumbled around Geralt's tongue. “Your turn is next.”

When they finally broke the kiss, Geralt rested their foreheads together, their breath falling into sync. “Four days. Better than last year. You're doing so good, soon, you won't be our pup anymore...”

Lambert frowned a little. “Four fucking days... I hate this shit, don't wanna be a burden. Hopefully next year, I don't go down at all.”

“Nah, sleep if you need it,” Eskel said. He leaned down and snatched some more kisses before Lambert was ready to move.

Geralt grabbed some proper clothes for him and he got changed in the hall. Jaskier tried to politely avert his eyes, only to receive a snort in response. “Don't hide your blushing eyes, bard, we'll see all of each other this winter, whether we want to or not,” Lambert said.

Pressing his lips together, Jaskier tried not to smile and failed miserably. “What if I want to?” As it turned out, they all had that same devilishly handsome smirk, which was just unfair.

Once Lambert was dressed, they sat at the table picking at some more cheese and bread, Eskel bringing out a few dried meats to get Lambert's strength up. “Feast tomorrow,” they told Vesemir when he started on dinner.

The rest of winter passed in a blissful haze of chores, training, playing, and fucking. Lambert's promised snark appeared after another day, and Jaskier appreciated their battles of wits almost as much as he appreciated their games of Gwent. Lambert was a formidable opponent to be sure, but Jaskier was no slouch.

It didn't take long for Jaskier to end up in bed with all of them—Eskel tender and attentive, Lambert passionate and hungry for everything, and of course Geralt, methodical and dogged in his pursuit of pleasure. They were all so much and Jaskier found himself spent before they were half done, so he got to watch Geralt and Eskel set upon Lambert, kissing and sucking until he cried out. Just as they took care of him in his hibernation, they took care of him here as well, all three of them moving together like they'd done it all their lives.

And the whispered praise of, “Good boy, beautiful boy,” that Jaskier pretended not to overhear made his heart melt just a little more. Yes, Jaskier gave his heart away the first moment he saw snow white hair and golden eyes, he didn't think he had any more to give, but as usual, Geralt proved him wrong. So three Witchers lived inside him now, and not just when they fucked, growling and nibbling, or when they made love slowly like he was spun from glass, but inside his heart. And when Jaskier curled around the youngest wolf, he saw their eyes soften, and he knew: this truly was happiness.


End file.
